


Roi d'Etoile

by Satre_Proxy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Minor Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satre_Proxy/pseuds/Satre_Proxy
Summary: The screen of the Nokia lights up green.SHIRO sent 01:17 1-Feb 2231: Setting course for Kerberos!Keith knows where Shiro is, why he hasn't come home.Dead but not dead. Schrodinger's Shiro.Alternatively;Keith wonders what it would be like to drown in a river of stars and thinks it must be similar to loving Shiro.





	Roi d'Etoile

**Author's Note:**

> Pokes head out- How many years out of fandom again?  
> This started as a Voices of a Distant Star AU that spun wildly out of control and over 9000 words later, here we are.

**T-1 Days before Launch**

Keith turns the small gray device over in his hands. The coffin shape is slightly foreboding, as if predicting a future with no breaks barreling 100km per hour down the freeway at him; hitting him, sending him to an early grave, burying him 6 feet under, with no remorse. A slight indentation runs the perimeter. The back is completely smooth, save for a compartment that looks like it could house a battery. The front design is unique for a personal device; almost ancient, although certainly this kind of technology was not that ancient.

Maybe early 21st century, Keith thinks.

It still had buttons- 12 of them- a creamy off-white color in stark contrast to the darker gray- raised slightly above the face of the device. On each a printed number in boldface type, and three letters. Above the letters, a screen, displaying nothing but green back-lighting and the same black boldface block-letter type. A green telephone and red telephone icon sit just below the screen printed on two larger buttons.

The corporate logo sprawled across the front reads "Nokia".

Keith frowns, testing the weight in his gloved hand.

  
"What is this?" he asks, handing the device back to Shiro, who shakes his head, pressing the device back into Keith's palm, a small smile gracing his lips.

  
"It's a phone."

Keith laughs, "It must be ancient."  

"Early 21st century" He was right then.

  
Keith runs his hand across the keys, feeling the soft silicon move beneath his fingers. It was strangely absorbing. He does it again before looking back up at Shiro.

  
"I've got one too," Shiro pulls a similar looking device from his pocket. "Matt rigged them up- found some scrap from- I don't even want to know where it came from. The tech is so ancient it's likely the Garrison won't actively be monitoring the signals and frequency."

  
Keith nods silently, brow furrowing, his bangs swishing against his face. "It's amazing what humans will forget when better things come along," he murmurs.

  
Shiro raises an eyebrow, chuckling softly. "According to Matt, humans tried for years on that frequency to reach extra terrestrial life- we've all but given up. Need more advanced tech than this. If you'd rather communicate with quantum frequencies and an encryption cypher you'll have to memorize, we can try that route."

  
Keith snorts, "Memorizing encryption ciphers was never my strong suit. We can stick with- what are these? Walkie-talkies? Nokias?"

Shiro shrugged, "Nokias."

  
Shiro holds his gaze, drinking in the way Keith's bangs fall across his eyes which look almost violet in the lighting of the Garrison gym. The rest of Keith's hair is slicked back with sweat left over from their earlier lifting and cardio session, the front of his shirt soaked through. The gym lights dim, and a bell chimes somewhere in the distance.

  
Keith breaks eye contact, pursing his lips, "Curfew."

  
Shiro nods, "It was always coming."

  
"Thanks for this."

  
"No problem. Matt tells me the battery will never die, so it should last you the whole mission."

  
Keith nods again, lips down-turned slightly. "I'll miss you," he whispers, almost inaudibly. Shiro blinks.

  
"Stay out of trouble while I'm gone."

  
Keith grins up at him, "You know it."

  
**KEITH sent 22:04 3-July, 2230:** Shiro?

  
**SHIRO sent 22:05 3-July, 2230:** Keith

  
**KEITH sent 22:06 3-July, 2230:** Thank Matt for me.

  
Keith shifts adjusting the pillow behind him to better support his neck as he reads the message on the screen. The keys on the Nokia would take some getting used too- they didn't have the same intuitive feel as the touchscreen on his Garrison issue communicator. In the moment, he finds the alternative, not speaking with Shiro during the entire Kerberos mission, less desirable than spending a few extra minutes fumbling over silicon keys and this T-9 function- some primitive precursor to predictive text. It would eventually become second nature, he supposed. How did people survive before touchscreens?  

  
**SHIRO sent 22:11 3-July, 2230:** Will do.

  
He pulls the blankets up around his neck, thoughts racing.

  
**KEITH sent 22:14 3-July, 2230:** Good luck tomorrow

  
Shiro had probably already fallen asleep. Keith didn't know how he could do that. Faced with a mission to a far away moon that would pull him away from everything he ever knew, Keith would not sleep.

  
**SHIRO sent 22:16 3-July 2230:** Thanks. Good night, Keith

**T-0 Launch Day**

  
There were not many people at the launch pad for the Kerberos mission; immediate family only, and as Shiro was not his immediate family, Keith was prohibited from attending which is how he found himself watching from a couch in the Garrison barracks, his roommate Sean curled up on a chair next to him.  
Shiro's immediate family consisted only of his mother who sat weeping on the sidelines. The newscaster pans swiftly across her shaking form. This is a joyous day for civilians; a manned mission to find life on Pluto's Kerberos moon. Melancholy has no place in the coverage. Keith shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

  
The camera pans across the aisle, toward the Holt family standing solemnly on the other side. Caitlin Holt's arm rests around her daughter, both in civilian clothing, contrasting against the garish orange and white of the Garrison uniforms. Matt rarely mentioned his mother, but he was close with his sister- Katie- Keith thinks.

  
Katie who, according to Matt, wanted nothing more than to follow in his footsteps (as he is the greatest big brother ever) and enter the Galaxy Garrison. Keith meets her eyes through the screen, though she would never know and nods in hidden solidarity with the pair. Hopefully Katie would study for her exams and start at the Garrison in September with the rest of the new recruits. She looks a bit like Matt- Keith feels an immediate connection. He would seek her out in September. His roommate rustles in the chair off to the side.

   
The brownish orange carpeted aisle was a poor choice by whoever designed the ceremony. It contrasts garishly with the jumpsuits Shiro, Matt, and Sam wear as they walk down to the launch bay. The temperature gauge in the corner of the screen reads 27 degrees Celsius, and rays of light dance cheerfully across Shiro's back, flaring into the camera lens.  
  
A shadow falls across the scene briefly as a cloud passes overhead.

  
Keith settles back into the couch in the barracks, flinging one arm over the back, the other hand toying with the slightly heavy, not yet familiar weight of the Nokia. He pursed his lips, before lighting the screen and typing.

  
**KEITH sent 08:50 4-July 2230:** Beautiful day for a launch

  
The news announcer drawled on about the importance of the mission as the front panel of the shuttle sealed shut with an inaudible hiss. Keith knows inside the shuttle, Shiro and Matt are buckling in and running through preflight checks.

_Fuel tanks- Check_

_Oxygen tanks - Check_

_Launch thrusters - Engaged_

  
_Begin system diagnostic checks._

  
He could run the check in his head, hours and hours of simulation practice with the pair consuming his thoughts. Keith could feel the belts tightening across his chest, as system diagnostics ran across the screen in front of him, blocked by Shiro's broad shoulders and Matt's co-pilot chair. Sam Holt's role in launch prep, Keith's role in simulations, concluded with the click of the safety belt.

  
_Diagnostic checks completed - all systems go_

  
_Begin final launch countdown_

  
Keith can execute the simulation in his sleep. How many Garrison rules had Shiro broken to allow that for him?

  
Mission countdown from the outside is nothing if not dull. Keith swallows the residual nervousness that is building in his stomach, and stills his tapping foot. His roommate glances over tentatively.

  
Keith pulls out the Nokia and lights up the screen

  
**KEITH sent 09:00 4-July 2230:** Comm systems - fully functional

  
Keith's roommate clapping breaks the silence; the awe of the newscaster fills the room. Shiro executed takeoff perfectly, the shuttle soaring into the sky and up above the clouds.

  
**SHIRO sent 11:30 4-July 2230:** Houston, comms are functional

  
A record clean takeoff.

  
**SHIRO sent 11:35 4-July 2230:** Blast off successful. Kerberos here we come

 

 

**T+1 Days after Launch**

  
Keith's hands grip the flight controls.

  
"Manually adjusting course,"

  
The shuttled drops in time with Keith's stomach, but the asteroid at their left soars harmlessly away, leaving nothing but free and open space in front of them.

Keith turns to his shaking co-pilot. "Through"

  
Sean, his roommate, looks green.

  
"This - this is the Kerberos flight simulator. I know Garrison likes to re-use. But you shouldn't be able to clear it this easily."

  
"Heh" Keith could fly this in his sleep.

  
Shiro practiced. Matt practiced. "How do you become the best at something?" Keith had once asked Shiro.

  
"You practice," Shiro responded.

  
Keith and Shiro practiced this time and time again, after Matt slept, with Matt, in all configurations. Keith wasn't much for practice, too distracted, too interested in other things, chasing the adrenaline rush that came with a first run through, a narrow escape.

  
"Patience" Shiro piloted.

  
"Focus" Keith played the part of Sam Holt and watched, providing backup support.

  
Shiro had no reservations toward extra practice, multiple repeats on the same scenario. Shiro chased away the boredom; Keith watched each run through taking note of every detail.

  
He itched to fly it, soaring and docking, narrowly avoiding asteroids left and right, the hydraulics of the simulator pushing the crew back and forth as he gripped the controls.

  
He itches to fly it on a more realistic difficulty than whatever easy mode Iverson had it programmed to for this class.

  
He sighs and loosens his grip on the controls.

  
The door to the simulator clangs open and commander Iverson ducks his head in, "Kogane."

  
Keith unbuckles and stands, "Yes, sir?"

  
"This is the Kerberos flight simulator. That was some impressive flying there."

  
Keith swallows and ducks his head, "Thank you, sir"

  
Sean is silent, blinking owlishly in the co-pilot chair.

  
"Try the moon refueling sequence again. You knocked the gate at entry"

  
"Yes sir." Keith doesn't remember knocking the gate at entry, but any chance to fly again he would jump at.

  
He settles back into the pilot chair as Iverson ducks out, sealing the simulator pod. Keith pulls out the Nokia.  
  
**KEITH sent 13:30 05-July 2230:** Don't hit the gate on entry to the refuel station

  
**SHIRO sent 13:35 05-July 2230:** You hit the gate? Matt is laughing at you right now

  
**KEITH sent 13:36 05-July 2230:** Iverson's letting me have another go at it

  
**SHIRO sent 13:40 05-July 2230:** Better get to it then

  
  
**T+3 Days after Launch**

  
Between the combination of Keith practicing in the simulator with Shiro and Matt, and now the Garrison first years using an easier difficulty of the Kerberos simulation to practice flight skills, Keith knows the trajectory of the mission quite well.

  
A mining colony built in the early 2100's serves as the refuel station.

  
A supply drop to the Mars colony.

  
Navigation through the asteroid belt.

  
Months of dull open space travel past Jupiter, around Saturn, shooting past Uranus, avoiding Neptune toward Pluto's Kerberos moon. Matt and Sam would use this time to prepare for the samples. Shiro would stare out the window at the stars flying by, ship on autopilot to conserve fuel.

  
**SHIRO sent 09:15 07-July 2230:** You may have hit the refuel station but I didn't

  
**SHIRO sent 11:23 07-July 2230:** Stocking up on supplies now

  
**SHIRO sent 11:24 07-July 2230:** We're going to make a pit stop on Mars to drop supplies at the colony

  
**SHIRO sent 11:26 07-July 2230:** Matt says Hi

  
**KEITH sent 12:30 07-July 2230:** Good luck with your supply drop; then off to the asteroid field?

  
**KEITH sent 12:33 07-July 2230:** I'll clear that in the simulator

  
  
**T+5 Days after Launch**

  
Keith drops the weights to the floor, the loud slam echoing through the empty gym. He pauses waiting for an admonishment that will not come, the larger man with black hair not reflecting back in the mirror, scowl on his face, lecture about respecting gym equipment on the tip of his tongue. How long until this became the new normal?

  
How long had it been since this was normal?

  
Carefully Keith wraps tape around his hands before heading over to the punching bags that lined the left side of the gym. His feet drag as he slowly crosses the room. The idea of sparring without Shiro didn't appeal to him; "practice makes perfect" echoing through his head.

  
"Patience yields focus."

  
His fist connects first with the bag, chain rattling through the space, the mats on the wall doing little to damper the noise. The bag flies back with unintended force. He shoves his sweaty bangs out of his face, violet eyes narrowing, left fist connecting with the bag.

  
Over and over he hits it, tape breaking, until the bag barely moves when touched, and Keith, exhausted, heads back to the bench.

  
He pulls out the Nokia to find three unread messages.

  
**SHIRO sent 20:03 09-July 2230:** Congratulations. Shove it to Iverson

  
**SHIRO sent 20:05 09-July 2230:** Our trajectory is in for Mars

  
**SHIRO sent 20:07  09-July 2230:** The fun part will be navigating the asteroid belt. I may see your point now. Then it's autopilot the rest of the way

  
**KEITH sent 20:15 09-July 2230:** Good time for studying. Gym is quiet without you

  
Keith feels hollow, the harsh florescent lighting throwing his world into gray scale. He pulls the ratty tape off his hands and heads back to his barracks.

**T+25 Days after Launch**

  
"Dazzling young pilot Shirogane gracefully docks the shuttle with record precision at the Martian colony..."

  
The announcement echoes throughout the halls of the Galaxy Garrison, the joy palatable, the smiles and laughter of the other students ringing through the air. The sign up list for the simulator suddenly runs to an extra page as cadets watch the replay of the docking on the news station and yearn to try the maneuver for themselves.

  
Shiro made it look easy.

  
Keith sneaks into the simulator after hours instead of signing up.  
  


**T+26 Days after Launch**

  
Surely Shiro would have mentioned a good supply drop on Mars.

  
Keith scrolls through the message archive in the Nokia.

  
**KEITH sent 18:30 30-July 2230:** I heard your supply drop went well

  
He sighs and reaches for a textbook.

  
The Nokia stays silent, the screen black.

  
"Particle physics?" Sean enters the room and flops down on the couch next to Keith. Keith shoves the Nokia hastily under his leg, the coffin shaped phone pressing uncomfortably into his thigh. "I didn't know you studied."

  
Keith sighs, and runs his hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back, "I do now"

  
"Want to hit the gym later?" Sean asks.

  
Keith sinks back into the cushions. His knuckles no longer hurt from repetitive impact against the punching bag, a layer of callus forming under his gloves.

The ghost of Shiro haunted the gym.

  
"It's been a while since I've sparred," Keith fiddles with the corner of the text page, eyes skimming across the complicated diagrams. Fraunhofer lines. Sean makes a face.  

  
The heaviness in his limbs makes it impossible for Keith to land a hit, to dodge anything. Despite this, Sean is the one who comes away looking worse for wear.  Physical combat, like piloting, comes as naturally to Keith as breathing, as erratic as the pattern of stars in the sky.  

Keith could only spar with Shiro.  It only felt right with Shiro.

**T+27 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 15:17 31-July 2230:** Supply drop went well

  
**SHIRO sent 15:18 31-July 2230:** The colony is nice. If you ever get tired of the Garrison, apply to live there. We can go together

  
**SHIRO sent 20:20 31-July 2230:** We'll be leaving Mars and heading off to the asteroid belt soon. Wish us luck

  
Keith feels his blood run cold though he can't decipher why.

  
**KEITH sent 20:25 31-July 2230:** You don't need it- you've got this. But good luck anyway!

  
"Sean?" he calls into the other room, "Let's go to the gym"

  
  
**T+60 Days after Launch**

  
The new cadets filter into the dining hall, faces fresh and ready, hopeful chatter filling the air as they wonder loudly when they will get to fly the simulator; if one of them would be the next Shirogane.

  
Keith is silent, alone at his table, wondering if he ever looked like the green crew filtering in. He must have, he thinks, running his fingers through his bangs, violet eyes scanning the crowd. He recalls Matt mentioning his sister was interested in attending the Galaxy Garrison and he scans the room for the familiar brown hair and green eyes of Katie Holt, but can't find her, meeting Sean's eyes from across the room instead, before glancing quickly away.

  
He inadvertently makes eye contact with the deep blue eyes of a fresh faced first year with dark skin and short brown hair. Keith suddenly feels like the the center of attention, as the noise in the room fades away. He feels heat rise to his cheeks, and hastily, he tears his gaze away. Where was Katie Holt?

  
He grips the Nokia in his pocket tighter.

  
**KEITH sent 12:30 04-Sept 2230:** Good luck with the Asteroid field. We're tackling it in the simulator this afternoon.

  
Keith is early to Sim practice that afternoon, settling himself into the pilot seat with practiced ease, cinching the safety belt around his waist. He plays in the difficulty menu, setting it up to the hardest level, hoping fervently the instructor won't catch him.

   
They were supposed to be practicing on normal mode; taking the first year cadets for their first spin in the researcher chair, but Keith's new hobby of sneaking into the large orange capsules and piloting through every configuration of easily accessible flight data made him loath to run through on "Normal". He longed to feel the rush of adrenaline through his veins, heart rate elevated, him piloting the sim through the asteroid field, Shiro navigating for real thousands of kilometers away. On normal difficulty he might as well be sleeping.

He was nothing, if not selfish.

  
Keith runs his hands along the dash below the screen reflexively wiping some dust away. He wore the black finger-less gloves all the time now. Too much lifting with Sean, as well as an over fixative way of gripping the sim controls caused his hands to tear and bleed.

  
Iverson pokes his head into the capsule as Keith reaches over to flip the startup switch, bathing them both in a soft white light as the pod lurches to life. Keith holds his breath.

  
"You've got an entirely new crew."

  
"No Sean?"

  
"We know you cover for him when you fly. No- you're taking our most promising first year pilot."

  
_Deja Vu._ He exhales with a whoosh.

  
Keith walked into the simulator, nerves pulsing with excitement. His hair was shorter back then, cropped close as was the style for all new Garrison recruits.

  
"I'm Keith," he introduced himself to the pilot, settling into the co-pilot chair, mind running through all the protocol learned in the classroom.

  
"Shiro," the pilot turned to him, holding out his hand. Keith gripped it, feeling the rough calluses beneath his fingers. "Good to have you on board."

  
_Deja Vu_. Inhale.

  
Keith forces a smile, flipping a switch to initiate a launch sequence.

  
"Sure, send them in."

  
The tall Cuban boy from the cafeteria enters, trailed by a girl with long dark hair who looks at him like he holds all the stars in the sky.

  
"The name's Lance," the cadet sticks out his hand. Keith had half expected Katie Holt, and feels his stomach sink.

  
Keith nods. "Sit."

  
"I hear you're the best pilot here."

That's not true, Keith thinks silently. That title belongs to Shiro.

  
"I'm Keith Kogane," he introduces himself, choosing not to acknowledge the cadet's words.

  
Lance buckles his seat belt. Iverson exits the capsule and seals it shut. Keith breaths a sigh of relief when he makes no comment on the difficulty setting. The girl buckles in behind them, harness clicking. Lance reaches out and grips the co-pilot controls. Textbook.  

  
"Ready to go?" He drawls.

  
Keith glances back at the door Iverson exited out of and chuckles lowly, "You better let me handle this one."  
  
The simulation boots to life, the pod shaking slightly as the hydraulics engage.

  
"Why?" Lance asks curiously.

  
Keith smirks, as the word "Difficult" splays across the screen.

  
Lance grimaces. "I'm the best pilot in the year."

  
The girl swallows audibly.

  
"Comms systems - check"

  
**KEITH sent 15:00 04-Sept 2230:** We did the asteroid simulation today. Guess who has a new high score

  
**KEITH sent 15:01 04-Sept 2230:** attached leaderboard.jpg

 

 

>   
>  _**001:** Kogane, Keith_  
>  _..._  
>  _..._  
>  _**150:** McClain, Lance_
> 
>  

 

  
**T+61 Days after Launch**

  
The Nokia on the dash lights up as it slides to the right of the cockpit.

  
"You really should have secured that thing before we entered the asteroid field," Matt quips from the co-pilot seat. Shiro grits his teeth.

  
"Let me drive," The ship swerves again, narrowly missing a flying rock to their left. The Nokia slides back across the dash.

  
The screen lights up again.

  
**KEITH sent 15:03 05-Sept 2230:** Iverson's pissed as well. Did it on difficult, freaked out the new recruits

**T+65 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 02:22 09-Sept 2230:** We're setting course for the asteroid field

**T+68 Days after Launch**

  
**KEITH sent 02:45 12-Sept 2230:** Godspeed

  
  
**T+70 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 14:43 14-Sept 2230:** Congratulations Keith

  
**SHIRO sent 14:44 14-Sept 2230:** You're really something. Asteroid field on difficult

 

**T+71 Days after Launch**

**SHIRO sent 23:59 15-Sept 2230:** Your cadet is ranked last

  
  
**T+ 83 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 16:22 27-Sept 2230:** We've cleared the asteroid field. Setting course for open space. 

  
**SHIRO sent 16:23 27-Sept 2230:** Can't wait for autopilot

  
**KEITH sent 16:24 27-Sept 2230:** Patience yields focus

  
**T+90 Days after Launch**

  
  
Book studies never suited Keith. He found them repetitive and boring, and why read when you could just ask someone, or experience it for yourself? The problem came that without Shiro and Matt, Keith had no one to ask; Sean could only partially fill the gap.

  
Keith withdraws. The repetitive immersion of studying physics and math becomes comforting, the practical application helping his piloting, his newfound understanding of angles and reactions, thrust and motion, lending a grace to his sims his classmates can't even dream of matching.

  
**001:** Kogane, Keith

  
It follows him through the hallways, whispers to him at dinner, he is the new Shirogane; no, he is better than Shirogane.

He fundamentally disagrees.

Shiro has that something, that pull that makes you want to follow him, makes you trust his every movement, every decision without a second thought.

  
Keith only likes to play in the simulator.

  
Patience yields focus, but the simulator provides that adrenaline rush he misses when still.

  
He uses every drop of his newfound patience for studying to hone his computer science skills and, after some careful maneuvering in the restricted section of his communicator, he finds the Garrison also tracks other statistics such as fuel consumption during sim runs. It gives him something to strive for. Soon Keith tops those unpublished leader-boards as well.

  
He wonders if Shiro ever did.  

  
The co-pilot Keith had initiated, Lance something- started after the first day at the bottom of the ranks. Keith feels his cheeks heat as he remembers Shiro's message on the topic and supposes Lance's place in the ranks is his fault. The co-pilot hadn't even a single chance to maneuver during that particular sim; if he had they would have crashed. Difficult was way too difficult for a green cadet.

Keith would take it back now, if he could.

  
Lance never moved up in the ranks, however, and this only causes Keith to frown, guilt hanging more heavily on his shoulders. The cadet is talented but needed to focus. He should help him, but when Keith looks at him, he flashes into another life, one where he hadn't met Shiro. He wants to help, but he was no Shiro, couldn't become Shiro. He can barely focus himself; barely hold himself together. How could he possibly help another person?  

  
Lance remains a guilty blip at the corner of his radar.  
 

**T+91 Days after Launch**

  
The Nokia weighs heavily in Keith's pocket. He pulls it out and runs his hands over the keys. The bold numbers were starting to wear off after so much use.

  
Keith wills the screen to light up, but it remains dark. His stomach churns.  

**T+94 Days after Launch**

  
"Lost contact with the Kerberos crew," the newscasters voice filters through the room, the soft glow of the television the only source of light, casting blue shadows across the couch Keith is curled up on. Sean stands at the corner, mouth agape. Keith's blood runs cold, limbs stiffen, his breath stills.

  
"It's believed the shuttle crashed during landing on the surface of Kerberos. Shuttle pilot Shirogane lost control of the landing, causing the ship to hit at high speed."

  
Keith folds inward, pressing his face into a pillow. He's a black hole, trembling and turning, spinning out of control. Sean covers his face with his hands.  

  
"Pilot error."  

  
The screen of the Nokia lights up green.

  
**SHIRO sent 22:53 08-Oct 2230:** Have you ever seen Jupiter up close?

  
**SHIRO sent 22:54 08-Oct 2230:** Stupid question. Of course you haven't

  
**SHIRO sent 22:55 08-Oct 2230:** attached jupiter.jpg

  
**SHIRO sent 22:56 08-Oct 2230:** Does that even work?

  
Keith's hands shake and he takes a deep breath in.

  
**KEITH sent 22:57 08-Oct 2230:** It's beautiful

  
  
**T+100 Days after Launch**

  
Pidge Gunderson enters into his radius, a satellite orbiting his peripherals. They share a general relativity lecture and Keith wonders if this small boy is smarter than Matt.

  
Matt was dead. Matt is dead.

  
Keith catches Pidge's eye one day during lecture.

  
Shiro is alive. Matt is not dead.

  
Whatever happened to Katie Holt?

  
  
**T+101 Days after Launch**

  
Keith tears down the corridor toward Iverson's office. Shiro is still alive- he is too good a pilot to crash on a simple landing. He pauses outside the door, pulling the Nokia out and turning it around in his hands. Shiro is still messaging him. He couldn't be gone. He would tell Iverson. Iverson would probably expel him for contraband tech, take it away, but this is better than the alternative, having the news spread lies about Shiro everywhere.

  
Keith throws open the office door with significantly more force than necessary causing it to shake on it's hinges.

  
"Kogane?" Iverson questions, rising slightly from his desk in the back corner of the room.

  
The office is a pallid gray, Keith notices dimly, with bright orange streaks along the walls. It is indistinguishable from the Garrison corridor.

  
"T-The Kerberos mission. It's not- tell me - it can't be - tell me it isn't true!" Keith gasps out, chest heaving partially from his run, partially from disbelief. Iverson stands and circles around to the front of his desk.  

  
"Shiro and Matt were prepared for this possibility. As was Sam Holt."

  
"What happened," Keith whispers, head dropping."What really happened?"

  
"Pilot error," Iverson looks sympathetic. Keith's head shoots up, fists clenching.

  
"Don't lie to me"

  
"It was pilot error. Crashed when they were landing on the Kerberos' surface."

  
"Shiro's too good a pilot for that," Keith's blood boiled.

  
"It could have happened to anyone," Iverson says coolly. "Now maybe you should get some sleep?"

  
"I-it's not. It wasn't - Shiro's too good a pilot for that. It-it can't be." He pulls the Nokia from his pocket and turns it over in his shaking hands. Iverson's brow shoots up. Keith takes a steadying breath that does nothing to calm his shaking. He pushes the Nokia into Iverson's hand.

  
The screen lights up green.

  
"Look," Keith snarls, "It's from Shiro. He can't have crashed."

  
Iverson shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Keith. I know you were close." Silence falls over the pair. Iverson turns the device over in his hands.

  
Keith swallows dryly, blood pounding in his ears. "N-no. NO!" He clenches his fists. "I can't accept this."

  
Iverson hands the Nokia back, "I'm not sure where you got this, but in light of the situation, I'm going to overlook it."

  
The screen lights up green again. 2 unread messages. Keith grits his teeth.

  
"They're from Shiro," Keith repeats, "He's still sending messages." Keith pushes the phone into Iverson's face. "He can't be dead if he's still sending messages."

  
Iverson closes his eyes briefly.

  
"Kogane"

  
Keith freezes.

  
"Kogane - this conversation isn't in real time."

  
An icy chill runs down Keith's spine.

  
"What"

  
"This is really old tech. The signal is delayed, especially so far out into space as Pluto is." Iverson's voice takes on a lilt of curiosity, "Where did you get this?"

  
Keith has blood dripping off his fingers, his hand is stinging. Iverson is doubled over the desk, hand pressed to his face. His nose looks broken, Keith notes dimly, staring at the crimson rivers dripping across his palm and onto the floor. There's a shout in the hallway and a clattering of boots. Keith sinks to the floor, his anger dissipated.

  
He just can't feel anything at all.

  
**SHIRO sent 07:15 15-Oct 2230:** ....................

  
**SHIRO sent 07:16 15-Oct 2230:** ....................

  
  
**T - 20 Days before Launch**

  
Matt and Shiro stood in the Garrison hallway, the desert sunlight streaming through the windows creating rainbows that danced along the stark white walls, contrasting with the orange stripe running down the center.

  
Matt pressed the compact device into Shiro's palm.

  
"This thing is massive. What is it?"

  
"Was that a physics joke?"

  
Shiro grinned, "It's heavier than it looks. What is is?"

  
"It's a phone. Super old earth tech. 21st century. You can use it to talk to Keith while we're on the mission."

  
"How did you know we were looking for something?"

  
Matt quirked an eyebrow. "How did I know you want to talk to the first year cadet while we're flying through space?"  He sighed, clapping a hand on Shiro's shoulder. "Are you seriously asking me that question?"

  
Shiro felt his cheeks heat, as he slid the phone from Matt into his pocket. "I appreciate the gesture, but you know, you're breaking so many rules giving this to me."

  
Matt grinned, "Dude, you need it. And don't worry. What the Garrison doesn't know can't hurt. They no longer actively monitor the frequency that the Nokia operates on. Or you could both memorize quantum decryption codes, and use that like Katie and I plan too."

  
Shiro shook his head, "I'll stick to piloting."

  
Matt frowned, his face falling into seriousness, "There is one catch though"

  
"What is it?"

  
Matt swallowed. "The frequency is fine- but it's not really optimal for space travel. That's why it was abandoned mid-century. Also why it won't be monitored."

  
Shiro sighed.

  
Matt continued, "The communication won't exactly be real-time"

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"Well, you know, general relativity and stuff."

  
"And stuff."

  
"There's a delay. The farther we fly from Earth, the longer it will take for your messages to get back."

  
"We have real-time comms on the ship?"

  
"This is old tech- undetectable, but not without a price."

  
"How bad will the delay be?"

  
Matt shrugged, "You'll notice it more than Keith." You can choose not to tell him. He might not notice. The words hang unspoken in the air.

  
Shiro nodded. "Thanks Matt."

  
  
**T+102 Days after Launch**

  
Lance stares at the ranking sheet.

  
"I've made it! Fighter Pilot!" he pumps his fist into the air.

  
Hunk elbows him. "Kogane's not on the list. I heard he dropped out. Disciplinary issues"

  
Lance frowns, "Disciplinary issues?" 

  
Pidge rolls his eyes.

  
  
**T+103 Days after Launch**

  
Keith stands outside the small shack, a rug sack on his back containing everything he owned back in the Garrison, the Nokia weighing heavily in his pocket. He's sweating, shirt sticking to him uncomfortably, the dry desert heat stifling.

  
He pushes the door open, to find a time capsule.

  
His childhood, his father, his old life, preserved perfectly, the space untouched by Shiro, the space with no memories of flight simulations and adrenaline, the space filled with the ambitions of a small boy ready to conquer the world, to race among the stars.

  
Keith chokes on sand.

  
Or perhaps he chokes on tears, though it's so dry in the desert they should have evaporated before reaching his throat.

  
Keith moves on autopilot through the room, wiping dust off the different surfaces, sweeping sand out of the nooks and crannies.

  
He throws the Nokia onto the makeshift dining room table, nothing more than a slab of plywood sat across a two stacks of cinder blocks.  

  
He does a quick check of the kitchen cabinets and halfheartedly debates a supply run, not sure if surviving is on the menu or not.

  
The Nokia screen lights up green.

  
**SHIRO sent 14:53 17-Oct 2230:** Guess where we are?

  
  
**T+104 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 00:37 18-Oct 2230:** Up Uranus

  
**SHIRO sent 04:00 18-Oct 2230:** That was Matt. He says hi, obviously.

Keith chokes back a sob.

  
  
**T+105 Days after Launch**

  
He's still receiving messages. He can't leave before they stop.

  
His stomach turns, growling angrily.

  
Keith makes a supply run.

  
  
**T+106 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 04:02 20-Oct 2230** : Keith, did you know Uranus is named after the god of the sky?

  
  
**T+120 Days after Launch**

  
Keith runs at lunch, when the sun reaches the highest peak, the hottest part of the day. The heat is dry, but the run is still akin to torture, leaving him parched, throat dry and full of sand.

 

**T+140 Days after Launch**

  
He's lost weight.

**T+ 150 Days after Launch**

  
He eats rations and canned food from town. He goes twice a week, each time carrying back food for three days.

 

**T+154 Days after Launch**

He debates bringing back alcohol, debates drowning in the bitter taste of it, allowing it to carry him into oblivion, and back.

  
He tries it once; it doesn't work. He spins, the time capsule spins, Shiro haunts his every movement until he falls. He wakes feeling worse, the emptiness overwhelming, the world blurring, room covered in vomit.  

  
He deserves this, he thinks.

 

**T+170 Days after Launch**

  
He runs at noon without shoes, sand burning blisters into the pads of his feet.

  
He doesn't cry.

**T+200 Days after Launch**

  
He supposes there's a better way to stock up, but he doesn't want to improve. Going into town so often is  a torture in and of it's self, and he revels in the dirty looks of the shopkeepers as he throws canned food on the band.

**T+ 225 Days after Launch**

  
He runs at noon when the sun is at it's highest peak, skin turning red, burning and blistering.

The Nokia lights up green.

 

**T+250 Days after Launch**

  
The burns peel away, and his skin turns a healthy brown and suddenly running at noon is no longer some kind of torture, just something that happens, day in and day out, day in and day out.

 

**T+275 Days after Launch**

  
The days pass and Keith wanders aimlessly.

  
Patience yields focus, although he doesn't know what he's waiting for.

  
  
**T+305 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 04:05 13-Nov 2230:** My native language is Japanese. Did you know that?  

  
**SHIRO sent 04:07 13-Nov 2230:** Uranus literally translates to "Sky King Star"

Roi d'etoile, Keith thinks.

  
  
**T+335 Days after Launch**

  
The desert was pleasantly cool at night. Keith shivers slightly.

  
Humans have a way of adjusting to circumstance.

  
Keith sits on the porch of the shack and gazes skyward. The stars are brilliant and bright this far out into the desert with no light pollution to dim their shine.

  
He traces the river of stars with his eyes and imagines Shiro and Matt floating on it in giant plastic tubes, laughing. And then Matt disappears and it's just Shiro, just Shiro and Keith floating lazily down a sparkling current in the sky.

  
The Nokia lights up inside. The messages will be ending soon.

  
Keith wonders what it would be like to drown in a river of stars, and thinks it must be similar to loving Shiro.

  
  
**T+340 Days after Launch**

  
Keith spins, falling, rotating on some unknown axis, out of control, Earth on one side, deep space on another, his ship above him, stars sparkling around him. The current of the starry river pulls him deeper and deeper beneath the surface and he gasps for breath.

  
So this is what drowning in stars feels like.

  
He sinks downward, deeper and deeper, a spiral that feels like nothing if not familiar, as if he hasn't just spent the better part of a year sinking. His decent slows to a stop, and his body surfaces, settling into a soft equilibrium. The current dances beneath his limbs, blues, reds, and greens snaking around him, mixing into a purple pool beneath his feet.

  
Shiro laughs.

  
Cautiously Keith slides a hand out and feels his trajectory slow in response, the distance from his ship remaining constant instead of growing. He takes a deep breath and spreads both his arms out, and his legs.

  
He floats. Shiro laughs again, somewhere distantly off to his right.  

  
"You've joined us Keith!"

  
Keith grins, violet eyes closed, breathing even. "I wouldn't miss it. A lazy river of stars! Only you would find something like this."

  
Shiro smiles.

  
"I wonder if Desert Keith is looking up at us right now," Keith whispers softly. "I did that a lot when I lived there." Silence descends on the pair. "I missed you."

  
Keith floats along the river, the pink, purple, green and blue hues of the stars carrying him away from Uranus and toward Neptune and Pluto. Toward Kerberos.

Shiro says nothing.

  
Keith takes a deep breath, his chest tight, unable to fill fully with air. He jerks upright in surprise at the blockage, the current still carrying him along. He gasps.

  
Funny how floating along a lazy river of stars feels awfully similar to drowning.

  
He is wearing a helmet. His hands come up to it as a noise crackles through his earpiece. A comms system, of course.

  
_Comms system - check_

  
He tries another intake of breath, chest constricting.

  
Red flashes across his vision. The Aurora Borealis, he thinks dimly, should be green like the screen of the Nokia. He looks over to Shiro for confirmation. Can they even see Earth from the Milky Way?

  
Keith is alone. He chokes.

  
WARNING  
OXYGEN LEVELS CRITICALLY LOW  
LEAK DETECTED

  
His head dips below the surface into the glittering water, swirling colors tinted with a reddish hue.

  
"Shiro?" he calls out frantically.

  
WARNING  
OXYGEN LEVELS CRITICAL LOW  
LEAK DETECTED

  
"SHIRO!" The next breath won't come, not even in the smallest amount. His lungs burn, his chest tight.

If he dies, will Shiro be on the other side?

  
  
**T+341 Days after Launch**

  
Keith wakes gasping for breath.  

  
On his nightstand, the Nokia screen glows green.

  
**SHIRO sent 19:53 19-Jan 2231:** We've set course to pass Neptune.

  
  
**T+342 Days after Launch**

  
Everything is blue.

  
Keith goes through his normal morning routine like nothing is wrong. Today is different.

  
He's drowned in the stars.

  
He's still alive.

  
There's more vigor in his step, more purpose.

  
Is this what healing feels like?

  
Everything is blue.

  
The Nokia screen lights up. Keith swears it's normally green.

  
**SHIRO sent 01:40 20-Jan 2231:** We can see Neptune in the windshield now.

  
**SHIRO sent 01:41 20-Jan 2231:** It's massive. Blue, like the ocean.

  
**SHIRO sent 01:42 20-Jan 2231:** Featureless. Giant blue mass. It's beautiful

  
Everything is blue.

  
  
**T+343 Days after Launch**

  
When Keith wakes, the shack is no longer a time capsule.

  
He spends the day clearing out the clutter that accumulated since he moved back, and that's when he finds the books tucked behind several volumes of an encyclopedia that are probably the same vintage as the Nokia, and an extremely heavy volume detailing the intricacies of particle physics and quantum entanglements.

  
The Nokia lays silently on the table.

  
The books are not written in English. The letters are a swirling, almost menacing text that means nothing to Keith. Purple outlines the binding, and a human / cat hybrid graces the cover. The symbols remind him of his knife he's stashed in the nightstand.

  
The books look vaguely familiar, and Keith thinks the slim volumes might be children's stories. He puts them back on the bookshelf and tells himself not to dwell.

He finds the third slim volume tucked behind a computer programming reference guide.

  
Someone- his father- scrawled English translations below the swirling purple text and Keith reads and reads and finds the instructions to build and maintain something referred to as a "hooverbike". The glossy illustrations depict a sleek white machine that looks like a cross between a motorcycle and an airplane with a blue stripe running around it. Keith runs his fingers across the glossy pages and a fire begins to burn in his stomach, anticipation building in his limbs.  

  
Suddenly Keith has purpose again.

  
**T+345 Days after Launch**

  
It takes him 2 full days to clear the garage door out from under the sand, but patience yields focus and all that.

  
It also yields a hooverbike, in desperate need of repairs. One engine looked completely knocked off; the blue paint is fading, scraped and worn. A good coat of paint would do wonders. A red stripe would suit it well.

  
Keith smiles.

  
   
**T+350 Days after Launch**

  
Hooverbike parts lay scattered across the floor of the garage. The manual is splayed open, haphazardly leaning on a can of oil. Keith rests flat on his back beneath the bike, engine parts above his head, elbows and forearms coated in grease, fingers nimbly twisting valves this way and that, eyes darting to the pressure gauge, mind double checking calculations.

  
Off to the side, the Nokia screen lights up green.

  
Keith ignores it.

  
**T+351 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 01:17 1-Feb 2231:** Setting course for Kerberos!

  
  
**T+395 Days after Launch**

  
Keith finishes the hooverbike. In the corner of the garage he finds a bucket of blue paint, but it's congealed almost to the point of being solid. He thinks red might be preferable anyway, so he heads into town and picks up a bucket of paint.

  
Everything is blue.

  
**T+396 Days after Launch**

  
With the hooverbike finished, Keith is in desperate need of a new project to occupy his time, so he begins his day by delving into the bookshelf, trying to shake the feeling something is missing.

  
He takes the hooverbike out for a spin, wind whipping through his hair. The adrenaline pulsing through his veins stronger than any sensation the simulator could provide.

  
He returns with a map which he pins to the center of a cork board hanging on the wall.

  
Keith thinks that red is his favorite color, as he pushes a yellow thumbtack into the cork board and wraps a green thread around it. He can't shake the feeling that something is missing, and he needs to find it.

  
He adds to the wall, creating patterns, drawing conclusions, finding answers where he can.

  
Maybe the decent into madness starts with blue.

  
  
**T+397 Days after Launch**

  
The threads create spiderwebs across the paper plastering one wall of the shack. With the hooverbike up and running, Keith can cover more ground to find what he's missing. It's not Shiro, he's sure of that.

He knows where Shiro is, why he hasn't come home. 

Dead but not dead.

Schrodinger's Shiro.

  
He finds a cave, covered in blue markings. Covered in diagrams, pictures of a large blue lion. He's not sure what to make of it. Each new section of the cave he discovers tells a slightly different story.

  
He returns to it as often as he can, gathering data and collecting notes.

  
He finishes pinning his thoughts to the wall.

  
He paints the entire hooverbike red.

  
The Nokia lights up.

  
**SHIRO sent 10:03 4-Feb 2231:** Sample prep is going well. We'll be ready to go in, extract and come back home.

  
Everything is blue.

  
**T+400 Days after Launch**

  
Keith isn't sure what possesses him to return to the Galaxy Garrison to plant the explosives on the ridge overlooking the barracks. It is a contrarian and juvenile act, and not something he really intended to do. It's a distraction, a giant fuck you to Iverson and the whole Garrison institution.

  
He makes sure the explosives are planted far enough to away so as not to be discoverable. To not hurt anyone in the event of detonation.

  
It feels right, like a step forward. Why? He breaths deeply.

  
He still hasn't found what he is looking for, but once the last explosive is planted, a giant weight lifts off his shoulders.

  
The night is cool, the sky a deep midnight blue, lit by the river of stars. Keith is no longer drowning. He signs in relief.

  
The Nokia screen lights up, but Keith doesn't rush to look at it.

  
Everything is blue, but he wishes it were red.

  
  
**T+448 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 03:12 10-Feb 2231:** Preparing for final approach to Kerberos

  
  
**T+449 Days after Launch**

  
The comet streaks across the sky toward the Earth. Past Neptune, past Jupiter.

  
Keith tracks the trajectory marveling at the blue and red flames of it's tail reaching across the sky. He thinks of moving ahead, of streaking across the sky. He breathes deeply. He thinks of the hooverbike, parked next to him, newly painted red gleaming under the starry sky. He thinks of starting over, finding the missing piece, of driving through the desert until he reaches the coast, an ocean of water in front of him, instead of a vast sandy plain.

He thinks of Veradero beach, the unknown terminology floating through his mind, heard in passing in the Garrison hallway.

  
He thinks of Shiro, and drowning in the river of stars.

  
He tracks the comet until he loses it among the asteroid belt.

  
  
**T+452 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 18:30 12-Feb 2231:** I've never thought about aliens much

  
**SHIRO sent 18:31 12-Feb 2231:** What if they're waiting on Kerberos for us?

  
**SHIRO sent 18:33 12-Feb 2231:** Matt thinks I'm being ridiculous. We're looking for bacterial life forms.

  
**SHIRO sent 18:35 12-Feb 2231:** The chances that they're sentient beings is slim to none

  
**SHIRO sent 18:37 12-Feb 2231:** Do you think sentient beings would have a space ship?

  
**SHIRO sent 18:39 12-Feb 2231:** Faster than light travel?

  
**SHIRO sent 18:40 12-Feb 2231:** I'd steal their ship and come home faster if I could

Keith laughs.

  
  
**T+453 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 01:57 13-Feb 2231:** Ship is on final trajectory into Kerberos. Switching into manual mode for sample collection. Wish us luck!

  
Everything is blue, but Keith wishes it was red.

  
  
**T+455 Days after Launch**

  
**SHIRO sent 06:34 14-Feb 2231:** ALIENS

  
  
**T+458 Days after Launch**

  
The comet enters Earth's atmosphere close to the Garrison barracks. 

  
The re-entry is controlled.

  
If Keith still watched the news, he could engage in the collective panic of humanity. Even the general public knows this is not a comet.

  
No human ships were scheduled for re-entry into the atmosphere, and everything is blue.  

  
The Nokia lies forgotten on the table.

  
Keith sprints out to the hooverbike and speeds over to the landing site.

  
It's dusk when he arrives, the clouds dark across the horizon. A red glow radiates out from the small center that is the ship reentering the lower levels of the atmosphere. Keith watches it descend, a bright streak.

  
He sits on the ridge,  gripping the throttle of the hooverbike, resisting the urge to push it forward, to chase after the ship and meet it at the landing site. The Garrison would be all over it, and he would be all over if he did that.

  
Iverson's voice rings clear through the evening air, amplified by the Garrison's alert system. "Attention students. This is not a drill. We are on lock down! Security situation Zulu Niner."

  
Keith swallows hard.

  
"REPEAT: All students are to remain in the barracks until further notice."

  
The ship crashes between two canyons off to Keith's left, shaking the earth, explosion lighting the sky. He tenses.

Patience yields focus.

He keeps his eyes on the Garrison, as the headlights over the rovers surrounding it light up and race forward in a coordinated dance toward the landing site.

  
Keith bides his time.

  
The rovers bring the crashed ship back to the medical bay, a hastily erected quarantine structure a small crew set up while the rovers were away. The ship is like nothing he's ever seen before- slate gray and conical, aerodynamics taken to a level beyond even what the hooverbike has. It's covered in glowing purple windows, the shade vaguely reminiscent of the text in his manual, the symbol on his knife. His stomach turns. He swallows dryly, pulse pounding. Two deep breaths.

  
He sets off the explosives.

  
He guns the throttle coaxing the hooverbike forward faster and faster, coming to a screeching halt outside the med tent.

  
He skirts the wall, entering the tent fists raised, racing down the short hallway. The door slides open.

  
Three Garrison workers in hazmat suits drop their posts from around the medical table and sprint toward him. Keith is ready, taking a steadying breath and moving into a fighting stance.

  
The first worker flies backward with a grunt, hitting a table across the room, collapsing. The other flies to the left knocking over a tray of ominous looking medical supplies.

  
Keith debates adjusting the force behind his blows, but doesn't manage in time, sending the third worker flying off to the right. He leaps across the scattered debris, panting heavily. He approaches the table, less cautiously than is prudent and pulls down his bandana. He reaches out with his other hand, and slides it across the jaw of the man secured there, noting the graying buzz cut, and white tuft that flops across a scarred nose. His eyes widen in surprise.

  
He breaths, "Shiro?"

  
He steps back to survey the scene, taking in Shiro's unusual clothing, his wrists and ankles bound in restraints. He pulls out his knife and slices through them swiftly, glad he wrapped the hilt, unsettled by its similarity to the slate gray ship. He lifts Shiro across his shoulders.

  
He's lighter than Keith remembers.

  
A voice rings out.

  
"Nope. No, you-- no no no. No, you don't. I'm saving Shiro."

  
Keith looks distracted into the eyes of the Cuban boy from the launch simulator all those months ago. He's not in Garrison issue fatigues. Of course not. That was a lifetime ago.

  
Lance crosses the room in three quick strides, knocking the stretcher table out of the way, shifting half Shiro's weight onto his shoulders.

  
"Who are you?" Keith asks. It's been too long to remember without seeming strange.

  
"Who am I?" Lance sounds incredulous, "Uh, the name's Lance." He blinks, "We were in the same class at the Garrison?"

  
Well he certainly read that wrong. It's been a while since Keith's interacted with another cadet and he's not sure what to do after misjudging the introduction. Lance was always at the bottom of the class, and the pang of guilt that it might have been his fault rises sharply, as Shiro's message flickers through his head. Keith swallows the bile. He'd rather not embarrass the other boy. "Really?" he finds himself saying, "Are you an engineer?"

  
Lance frowns. "No, I'm a pilot! We were, like, rivals. You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck!" Keith raises an eyebrow. That's not how he remembered it at all. He frowns.

  
"Oh wait. I remember you. You're a cargo pilot."

  
"Well not anymore. I'm fighter class now, thanks to you washing out."

  
Keith's stomach lurches uncomfortably. At least he is good for something. "Well congratulations!"

  
A shout rings through from the entrance to the med tent. They need to get moving. Swiftly the pair drags Shiro to the hooverbike and the four of them pile on after him. It lurches under the weight of the team.

  
Keith guns the throttle, familiar rush building in his veins.  

  
  
**T+459 Days after Launch**

  
Keith leads the team into his desert time capsule, grinning in the afterglow of adrenaline as he deftly swipes the Nokia off the table. The screen lights up green.

  
1 UNREAD MESSAGE

  
Shiro.

  
Keith slides the Nokia into his pocket before anyone could ask any questions. He ushers them in, leading Shiro to the bedroom and bathroom so he can clean up, silently transferring the suddenly uncomfortable weight of the Nokia to the bed. Shiro watches him, and Keith doesn't know what to say.

  
He's lost his breath, drowned in stars. Everything is blue, but it should be red; Keith should be wrapped in the black oblivion of Shiro's embrace.

  
A year is a long time.   

  
He doesn't know what to do.

  
He opts for silently pulling out a set of his father's clothes from the armoire and handing them to Shiro with a smile. Shiro sits back onto the bed something hard cutting into his thigh and nods pensive, eyes following Keith's every motion.

  
"I'll leave you to change then," Keith is noticeably older, his shoulders are slumped, his dark hair has grown longer than Shiro remembered, falling down the back of his neck. His eyes still flicker violet but are haunted now, dark circles marring Keith's tanned skin. Shiro feels a pang of guilt run through him. Keith smiles softly, not quite meeting his eyes, and turns, heading back to the others in the dining room, allowing Shiro the privacy to change his clothes. Shiro fights the urge to call for him.

  
Shiro retrieves the familiar weight of the Nokia from under his thigh, lighting the screen with practiced ease.

  
The black block text flashed against the bright green screen.

  
1 UNREAD MESSAGE

  
Shiro's kneeling, frantically thumbing over worn silicon buttons, heart racing. The large purple alien grimaces, teeth bared, circling close.

  
He presses send and throws the Nokia as hard as he can, watching it land and skitter to a stop, sliding down the smooth gray and purple hallway with a whoosh.

His cheek stings where the alien slapped him, his shoulders seize when his wrists are pulled behind his back.

  
Keith.

  
Shiro takes a calming breath. He's in a time capsule, a room, sitting on a bed, surrounded by Keith on every side. Keith is here.

  
Now that they are together again, they have all the time in the world to figure out what's next, he tells himself. They can face it together.

  
Shiro takes another deep breath.

  
He opens the message.

  
**SHIRO sent 22:57 14-Feb 2231:** I love you, Keith

  
He would rather tell Keith in person anyway.  

  
He stands and changes. He exits the bedroom, passing silently through the shack. The four cadets glance at each other as he passes. Keith stands from his spot on the ratty couch, Lance silent for once, and follows Shiro out into the desert dawn.

  
The sunrise paints the landscape peaches and soft blues.

  
Shiro stares out across the sandy plain. Keith comes up behind him and places his hand on his shoulder, palm burning through his shirt.

  
"It's good to have you back," Keith says roughly.

  
"It's good to be back."

The black block text flashed against the bright green screen.

  
MESSAGE DELETED

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a line or come find me on tumblr!  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/satreproxy


End file.
